The Tale of a Survivor
by AntithesisofanAntihero
Summary: In the darkened streets of zombie-haunted Raccoon City, one man desperately searches for the whereabouts of his fiancee. Alone and terrified, he will nonetheless stop at nothing to see the safe exit of him and his love from the city of the plague.
1. Prologue

**The Tale of a Survivor**

"My name is Connor O'Roddell. I am 23 years old, and I just graduated from college, studying journalism at post-secondary universities and received high honors. I had such a bright future. I really did.

"Three months ago, I moved from Chicago to the small Midwestern American town of Raccoon City with my fiancée Ryana, having been promised a job at a local newspaper facility. It wasn't until I got settled in, that I learned of the cannibal killer attacks the following summer. I read the news archives. Horrifying... and the supposed incident at the Arklay Mountains Laboratory. Something about an explosion, and the subsequently ending cannibal murders. For a while, there was peace. There were no more sightings of the rumored killers or their trained attack dogs. Eventually, people started coming back out into the streets after sundown and some even daringly ventured into the forests. It was peaceful; everyone came back from those darkened ventures. Then, there was one who did not return. Then another. And another. Eventually, sightings of wolf-like creatures with slimy, blood-slicked hides and exposed tissue. The sewers became silent, and the waters would run red with the blood of city workers. All of a sudden, the city wasn't so peaceful. It was on one chilly, cloudy day, in late September (or early October, I can't remember… the days are so blurry…) that it all happened, and the lives of thousands ended to the sound of muffled shrieks and of spilling blood.

"It was 8 O'clock in the evening when I heard the first screams. All I… I was just eating, and all of a sudden there was this… this blood-curdling shriek, followed in rapid succession by so many more. So many more…

"Then came the sounds of gunshots, and car crashes and explosions. As I crept over to my window, I was gripped by one of the most horrible sights I had ever seen. Dozens of people in the streets, some police officers, some civilians.

"Or, at least, they looked like civilians. They were covered in blood, torn-up clothing. Some of them didn't have any limbs or even faces, exposing the dark, gritty muscle and bone underneath. Some seemed still about their wits enough to run from the dead people. Were they dead? I don't know… living people certainly don't shuffle hungrily towards others, with half their skin ripped off, and act like they've almost starved to death. Living people also tend to die when they've suffered countless gunshot wounds.

"My life was perfect. I was in love for the first time, I had a job and I was loving every minute of it. This wasn't supposed to happen. Regardless, here I am, with pen in my sweating hand and paper in my lap. There's a gun at my foot, loaded, but I only have two clips salvaged from dead (or undead…) officers. I'm writing this in hopes that whoever finds it can use any information I write down, God forbid I never need to use it. If I survive, I need a real vacation. Fitting that I have more to write about in the past few days than I have in my entire life. This is my story, and this is my life as of three days past."


	2. Chapter 2

_Turn the page. . ._

Connor O'Roddell reeled back from the window of his small apartment, horrified at the sight before him.

"Oh my God, this is bad!" He breathed. Cold sweat started dripping down his forehead, and he hastily wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Just moments ago, he witnessed the gory deaths of dozens of people. Terrified and agonized civilians tripped over dead bodies, only to scramble up and be pulled back down by the bodies they had tripped over. Consumed.

Policemen fired their standard-issue handguns at the creatures, watching them go down only to have them rise again as if they had simply tripped, and not shot in the chest. It was over almost as soon as it began.

It took moments for Connor O'Roddell to get over the shock of the sight and ponder his options. He stood up and straightened his back, weighing his options against each other, realizing that if he stayed here he might be cornered. He took everything into consideration, including the whereabouts of his coworkers and, more importantly, his beloved Ryana.

"Ryana . . . if only you had stayed with me. Please, I'll come for you. I promise. Just stay where you are, you're safer that way." Connor pictured his lover, and was almost immediately able to conjure up the image of her 5'6 height, her light brown hair and green eyes resting in the fair, naturally lightly-tanned skin of her face. She was four years older than him, and a student of philosophy and psychology. Hopefully, her extreme intelligence would tell her that he would come for her, and she should stay where she was. He loved her, and he would be damned if she died here. His life wasn't worth living unless she was in it. Yet… if he were to stay here, perhaps he could contact her first.

_It's also unlikely they're going to come at me in full force. As long as they don't know I'm here, they won't come after me. I can wait and bide my time until I can map things out._

Looking back out the window, however, revealed that whatever the things were, several of them had just recognized his existence and were now staring up at him with hungry, staring eyes. Slowly, they shuffled towards the door that lay immediately below his window. Seconds later the sound of crashing glass could be heard as the monsters penetrated his supposed sanctuary.

"Shit." Now there was only one option left. He had to leave, now. He would make his way across town to find Ryana, and together they would leave. He knew she was alive.

He lunged for his dresser, knocking over a chair in the process with a loud clang. Snatching the handle and pulling the highest drawer open, his hand fished aimlessly amidst the clean socks and underwear for the recently bought 9mm handgun that would now be his savior.

"Come on, where are you!"

A few days ago, he had gone to the local weapons store and used the last of his last paycheck to buy this handgun and a few dozen extra bullets, fearing the worst concerning the recent reappearance of creatures in the woods.

_I guess my paranoia paid off for once._

He pulled out two handgun magazines, plus the one loaded. He hoped it would be enough. He hoped even more that God himself would guide his untrained aim.

The screams outside were quieting, save for those in the distance, replaced by gurgling moans and hungry wails with the slight background of crackling fire. The sound of tearing flesh and gnashing teeth soon followed as the creatures stooped to feed.

Connor pulled on the first pair of jeans he could find and stuffed the handgun clips into them. Outside his door, he could hear more people tearing from their apartments, trying to be as quiet as they could be but failing in their panicked gasps of horror and fear of what was to come.

There was nothing worse to Connor than not knowing the future, and not knowing what was to come.

He searched desperately for a clean shirt. Dashing into his small, undecorated bedroom, he slammed open his closet door and quickly fingered through his small number of clean shirts, finally finding a sleeveless black one that wouldn't inhibit his movement. Hastily, he pulled it over his head and flipped his nose-length brown hair from his face and tucked it behind his ears.

He made a mad dash towards the door, and in a moment of serendipity he ran back and snatched his denim jacket off of the nearby coat hanger.

If he hadn't moved away from the chestnut-colored door, he would have been knocked off his feet as it swung open with a crash, revealing a gurgling, 6 foot zombie drabbed in the tatters of a RCPD law enforcer's uniform. Blood-spattered lips parted to reveal bloodied teeth. The creature snarled and went on the attack, throwing its heavy arms up and lunging forwards.

"Shit!" Connor shouted in frightened surprise, aiming his handgun and pacing backwards, away from the oncoming creature. It stumbled quickly towards him, almost gorilla-like with its arms crooked over. One shot threw its right shoulder back, but it turned towards Connor and snarled. The arrival of another bullet into its chest threw the zombie off of its feet and it fell, back-first, into the carpet with a muffled thud. It flailed for a moment, but by the time it was back up, Connor was outside his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"That was too close." Connor warned himself quietly and breathlessly as he made the effort to lock the creature inside the room. Looking to his left and right, he quickly outlined his few options. Panting heavily, he figured he could go to his left and down the three flights of stairs to the back alley, or he could go to the right and take the streets.

"What the hell is going on? What are these creatures?" Connor questioned. _Slam. Bang. _Apparently, the creature was none too happy about being locked in his apartment without Connor's company. Realizing the semi-thin door wouldn't hold out, he chose the left path, hopingly believing that the abandoned, dirty and steamy paths would offer more safety than the crowded streets that would now be the battleground.

His feet pounded down the lighted hallway, and came to a stop as he heard pounding footsteps ahead.

Slowing down to make sure he didn't rashly run into the open arms of any oncoming predators, he raised his handgun and stalked forwards. He was frightened, and it was reflected in both his trembling arms as well as his wide brown eyes and sweating forehead. His handgun pointed at the corner where the footsteps were getting closer to, and Connor steadied his aim. If he had fired, he would have hit the panicked, middle-aged man in the uniform of a janitor.

"Hey!" Connor shouted as the man stumbled towards him. The man took one look at him as he came forwards and shoved him aside.

"Get out of my way!" snarled the terrified worker. He clutched a broken broom, and there was blood on the end of the 4 foot long shattered pole. It swung in two directions as the man continued forwards. "Get the hell away from me!" the man screamed as he tore on down the hallway, apparently unaware that Connor was now indeed out of his way.

Sighing, Connor lowered his outstretched arm and turned back. Stalking slowly towards the corner, Connor saw another hallway with between ten and thirteen doors.

_Thirteen is a bad number._ Connor wasn't a superstitious person, but then again, zombies were supposedly not supposed to exist.

Connor swallowed. If he slowly crawled forwards, he might be attacked by any creatures that had taken up residence in the apartments ahead. He steeled himself and put himself into a running posture. Panting heavily, he steadied his eyes on the steel door at the end of the hallway labeled "fire escape".

_Just run. Nothing as slow as these monsters could catch you._

The next few moments seemed to go both in slow-motion and lightning fast. He pumped his arms and the three doors became a blur as he slowed to a halt. Turning back and warily looking towards the still-closed doors, he came to the conclusion that he was now the only moving thing in the hallway.

Ahead of him, less than a foot away stood the door. Looking like the gate to hell itself. He took another deep breath, clasped his still-sweating hands around the knob, and slowly turned the brass handle. He leaned his shoulder against the door and heightened his handgun to point vertically parallel to his crooked elbow. Taking another deep breath, he peered through the minimal crack he had just created. Nothing. Quickly, he pushed all his weight into the cold door and it swung open effortlessly. He pointed his handgun in several directions, hand still on the door knob. Turning back, he could hear the sounds of shuffling feet echo from what must have been several dozen meters back, around a corner. Letting go of the handle, he nudged it shut with his foot and tore down the stairs, trying to take in his immediate surroundings. Inside the whitewashed stairway corridor, there were stairs leading to the higher levels and two flights leading down to the alley. Just below, he could see the red light signifying "Exit". Nothing moved except him.

Repeating his previous procedure of the fire exit door on the exit door, he more cautiously peered around. Nothing moved, except from the steam ventilated from the buildings standing side by side. He felt the cold feel of concrete through his running shoes. The air stank like urine and waste, human and otherwise. Nonetheless, he was used to this stench. A new scent, one of blood and pain had now accompanied the path.

"Okay Ryana, stay put. I'm coming to get you."

Out of the fog ahead, several figures slowly stumbled towards him. The sounds of hungry wails filled the alleyway.


End file.
